Cold Queen - K Webster Page 0,28
Him being in my arms—inside me—is more pleasure than I’ve ever known. I don’t want it to be a dream. I need for it to be real. I need him.
“Don’t stop,” I plead. “Make me yours.”
His hips buck against me, desperate and feral. I give myself to him in every way. My mouth, my body, my heart. I may regret this in the morning, but in this moment, I regret nothing. Raking my nails down his shoulders, I revel in the hiss that escapes him. He thrusts harder into me. Owning and possessive. A king laying claim to a queen. I’m jerked out of my mind and reminded what he’s doing to my body when his hand slips between us. His fingers strum my nub of pleasure in an effortless way that has me exploding within seconds.
As I climax, diamondblades slowly extract from my fingertips, barely piercing into his flesh. It takes every amount of self-control I have to keep from stabbing my dark king lover. The beast inside me rages and thrashes, seemingly thrilled at its escape. My gift feels as though I can see it, touch it, harness it.
“Elzira,” he groans, his hips flexing a moment before his heat floods inside of me. He thrusts a few more times before collapsing on me. A small chuckle rumbles from him, heating my neck where his face is buried. “You cut me.”
I run my fingers along his wounds, sealing them up effortlessly. It invigorates me how easily I am able to use my gift. When the thrill fades, I realize he’s spurt his seed into me. My body stiffens as I wonder what will happen.
“You would chance filling the womb of a dying woman?” I ask, my voice shaky with emotion. “Reckless, horrible king.”
I don’t mean it.
He’s not horrible at all.
“As long as you have me, snowflake, you’re not going anywhere.”
His words, although empty promises, fill me with warmth and joy and hope.
“You’re not horrible,” I breathe, stroking my fingers up his spine.
He doesn’t respond, simply kisses my neck.
Kisses and kisses and kisses until he’s hard again inside me. This fire maker plans on keeping me hot all night long.
Not horrible at all.
Not even a little bit.
I don’t want to die. I want to live. And I want to keep this man.
Ryke
It’s adorable when she hides from me. As though her curtain of white-and-blue-streaked hair will somehow keep her crimson cheeks from my eyes. I see my blushing queen. Red-faced and recently ravished. She pretends as though I’m not blatantly staring at her as she pulls on one of her fancy dresses adorned with diamonds.
All through the night, I took her. Over and over again. She didn’t protest, not once. No, she dug her nails into my flesh and begged. My sweet, beautiful queen begged for more.
I groan because my cock is hardening once more. The timing is ill considering we have duties this morning. I’ve decided she and I will share our breakfast in the dining room before heading to a meeting with my men. The Damned are coming and I want to make sure we have a plan of attack. And then, there’s the matter of allowing her to see her sister.
Anger, hot and violent, surges through me.
I want to keep my queen all to myself.
She’s safer that way.
“I’m ready,” she says, lifting her chin to finally meet my eyes.
Her color is no longer pale and bluish. She’s pink and flushed. Beautiful. But far underdressed.
“Where’s your shawl?” I demand.
“I don’t wear anything to cover my arms…” She frowns, a troubled expression on her pretty face.
“And why don’t you wear anything to cover your arms?” I implore.
Her brows furrow deeper. “I don’t see you offering your cape,” she snaps, storming toward the door.
Fire runs through the blood of the ice queen.
“Not so fast,” I growl, snagging her arm as she passes.
Cold, chilly flesh.
Anger at the situation has me summoning my fires to warm her with my touch. Her rigid posture relaxes. I release her to unfasten my cape. Once I remove it, I tie it around her, letting it drape heavily over her shoulders.
“Let me see you, snowflake.”
She turns to face me, her blue eyes stormy. “It smells like you.”
“Try not to inhale it all morning,” I tease.
A smile plays at her lips. “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”
“It’s already been forgotten.” Reaching up, I tug at a strand of her white hair. “I’ll need my cape on the battlefield, though. I can do without it for breakfast.